


The Light Within

by princessbelle212



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Final Haikyuu Quest, Dark fic, Explicit Sexual Content, High Fantasy AU, I am serious about that non-con warning people, Loosely based on Haikyuu!! Quest, Multi, Sexual Violence, also loosely based on Dungeons and Dragons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-01 19:33:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5218094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessbelle212/pseuds/princessbelle212
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hinata leads a happy, safe life in the village of Karasuno. But safety and happiness are boring. He knows he's made for more, and he wants to be a Paladin. He's blessed by Yatagarasu, the three-legged crow god of the sun, and all he wants is the chance to prove himself worthy. The peaceful village isn't the sanctuary it seems, though. Facing the overwhelming threat of dark forces to the west, Hinata must team up with a mysterious, taciturn ranger and stop the diabolical wizard before his power swarms over the whole kingdom. But stopping evil isn't as easy as he thought. How much suffering can he withstand before his faith shatters?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings in this chapter: non-con elements, violence

The sound of his katana thwacking against the practice dummy’s shield never failed to make Shouyou Hinata smile. The practice yard behind the Temple of Yatagarasu smelled like leather and sweat and straw, and it was Hinata’s favorite place in the whole village of Karasuno. It wasn’t full of the distractions of the main street, with the carts of vendors and the cries of merchants, and the cheerful greetings of the townspeople who had known him his whole life. In the practice yard, Hinata felt like he was stronger, faster, and more important. Tanaka and the rest of his fighters were happy to give Hinata advice, and they left him alone while he practiced whenever he found the time. They didn’t call him ‘boy’ or ‘sweetheart,’ they spoke to him like he was just as valuable as any man in the village. 

He whirled around, whipping his sword in a complex series of arcs, imagining what it would be like to have a flashing blade opposing him. He visualized the potential blocks, then swept his sword up and slashed through the middle of the practice dummy. The canvas split, and straw tumbled out onto the practice grounds. Hinata yelped, and tried to stuff the straw back in before Tanaka noticed. After a few minutes of struggling, he gave up and decided there was no point. Tanaka was used to Hinata’s mishaps. Being careful not to slip on the straw, Hinata went through the set of moves again, flowing from one form into the next in a complete kata. He practiced until sweat dripped into his eyes and they stung. His arms shook with fatigue, his breathing quick and deep. His sword was poised with the edge against the neck of the practice dummy, and he heard someone clapping though the pounding of blood in his ears.

“Well done, well done!” Tanaka said, grinning his broad grin. “You’re getting better every day. Soon, you’ll have no choice but to join up with us.”

Hinata grinned back at Tanaka, bouncing a little from the praise. “You could just let me join now! I’m more than ready.”

Tanaka laughed, his big booming laugh, and walked over to ruffle Hinata’s sweaty orange hair. “Good try, Hinata. You know I love the eagerness! But it would be foolish to risk you before you’re ready, not when you’re so talented.”

Hinata gritted his teeth. It was the answer he’d expected, and one Tanaka had given him a hundred times before. It was never easier to hear, though. For all that Tanka and Ennoshita and Narita and the rest let him practice and treated him with respect, he was still short and scrawny, barely over one hundred and twenty pounds. He’d hoped that the hours and days and months of practice would help him gain some muscle, and it was true that he’d burned away the last of his baby fat. He was still as scrawny as ever, though, all lean muscle and quick agility. He was jealous of Tanaka’s giant arms and grip that could crack walnuts between two fingers. He was jealous of Asahi’s height and strength. The gentle Paladin didn’t even use his physical advantages to fight, and it pissed Hinata off. If he was a Paladin, he’d be out fighting the bandits and wolves that threatened Karasuno’s populace every day, not hiding in the temple healing people and praying. Paladins were warriors with the most just cause, and Hinata wouldn’t stop practicing until he joined their ranks. It didn’t matter that Asahi refused to teach him divine magic. Hinata knew what he was meant to do. He dreamt of crows all the time, and he knew it was a sign from Yatagarasu. The crow-god watched over him, he knew it. He even had some innate divine magic, much to the shock and consternation of Asahi. He’d learned to control it, enough, so that he didn’t accidentally create light every time he found himself in darkness, but it was definitely some sort of sign. Innate divine magic was practically unheard of. He had a destiny, he was sure of it. 

But he’d never be able to be a Paladin if Tanaka wouldn’t let him go out and help with the patrols and the raids on the bandit camps. He pouted at Tanaka and sulked over to Daichi’s forge, tucked away at the back of the practice field. Daichi handed him a whetstone without a word, and Hinata settled onto the ground to hone the edge of his blade, keeping it in top condition.

“You shouldn’t be in any rush to get yourself into a fight,” Daichi said in his deep voice. He frowned in Hinata’s direction while he pumped the bellows, the reflection of the embers turning his face bright orange. “Don’t do more than you can before you’re ready.”

Hinata sighed. He’d heard the same lecture from Daichi before, too, but it always affected him more than Tanaka’s lectures did. He’d heard Daichi’s story enough times, but it stuck in his memory. Daichi had been the head of the fighters guild and had trained up all the current members, until his leg was slashed open by a bandit’s sword. He’d been outnumbered, fighting on his own when he should have run and made another attempt, and it was miraculous that he was even alive. He’d taken out the bandit who’d injured him, and had expected to die then. When he looked up from where he was lying in his blood, though, the remaining bandits were lying on the ground, black arrows sticking out of their necks. Daichi had no idea who had rescued him, and when he’d gotten the wound bandaged as best he could, there was no sign of anyone else. He’d staggered back to the village and been healed to the best of Sugawara and Asahi’s abilities, but there was only so much the priest and the paladin could do. Daichi had been forced to retire, the muscle too damaged to support the long exertion of patrolling, and had taken up weaponsmithing instead. He was still one of the best fighters Hinata had ever seen, despite his injury. 

“I won’t,” he told Daichi as he slid the whetstone along the blade until the movement was slick and fluid. He wanted to do something, though. To really test out his skills, to experience the exhilaration of an actual fight. Sparring with Tanaka was helpful, and everything, but Hinata knew it wasn’t anywhere near a real fight with real swords.

The yard was getting dark by the time Hinata strapped his katana to his back and set off to leave. He glanced curiously over at where Tanaka stood near the gate, talking in a low voice to Asahi and Nishinoya, a tiny man even shorter than Hinata was. They all looked worried, and Hinata paid close attention as he walked by, trying to figure out what they were saying.

“Only four,” Nishinoya muttered, glancing up at Asahi, who shook his head.

“It’s not worth it. There’s a flu running through the village.”

“Well, Tanaka, what about your team?”

“Might not be worth it,” Tanaka whispered back. “We just had a tough raid, and there’s not much four can do if they try to attack the town.”

“But the farms to the North. You know Tsukishima won’t do anything about them.”

“I can’t risk it, Noya,” Tanaka said. “We can hunt them down in a day or two. You know we’re undermanned.”

“I can’t do this on my own, Tanaka. I’m not that good.”

“Four bandits just isn’t worth it, Noya. Sorry. We’ll take care of it as soon as- Oi, Hinata!” Tanaka called, noticing Hinata lingering on the edges of their conversation. “Tell your mother I’ve got some tunics I’d love for her to patch up, if she’s got time.”

Hinata nodded, face a little flushed at being caught eavesdropping, and ran the rest of the way home through the small village. It wasn’t terribly far, though the roads were hilly and narrow. But Hinata could have made the journey with his eyes closed, his feet moving confidently over the cobblestone. His mother’s house was on the western side of the town, a well-maintained little cottage with a pair of flower-boxes under each window, and a freshly thatched roof. Well-made clothing hung in the window, and a little sign over the door read “Hinata Tailoring.” The clothing his mother made wasn’t fancy, but it was serviceable workman’s garb that suited the hard-working townspeople just fine, and they did a steady business. Hinata hated sewing, though. Much of his time was spent mending tears and altering shirts and adding pockets, and he hated it. It was so menial and pointless. Still, he loved his mother, and with his father gone in the mines to the East, Hinata knew it was his duty to help where he could.

“Shou?” his mother called when he walked inside. The cottage was filled with the smell of slow-cooking stew and sage to ward off bad spirits and the warm, musty smell of the linen clothing waiting to be mended. 

“Back, Ma,” he replied, unbuckling his sword and resting it against the wall by the doorway. He wandered into the little alcove that served as a kitchen, a small wooden table and two chairs against one wall and a large hearth with a cooking pot against the other. His mother was stirring the stew, adding bits of spices and herbs as it boiled away merrily, and his younger sister, Natsu, sat at the table, re-attaching the pocket to a sturdy-looking shirt. 

“Did you learn a lot today, Shou?” his mother asked, smiling up at him, her face damp from the steam of the cooking pot.

“Yeah,” he said, smiling back at her. She and Natsu were part of the reason he trained so hard, too. He was determined to keep them safe from invaders and from the men who wanted to take advantage while his father was away. He had to protect them, he was the only one who could. “Tanaka said I’m getting better. It’s got to be only a matter of time before he starts letting me go out on patrols.”

His mother frowned. “I don’t want you risking yourself when you don’t have to, Shou. Why can’t you spend some time learning healing from Asahi and Sugawara? You know they’d be more than happy to teach you.”

“You know that’s too boring for him, mom,” Natsu said, her childish voice masking her disrespectful words. “He’d just run off into the practice yard as soon as they stopped looking at him.”

Hinata stuck his tongue out at her, and she grinned, the same bright happy smile that he too often found spread across his own face. 

“Well, it’s safer,” his mother said, turning back to the stew and ending any argument Hinata may have had.

He sat obediently, waiting until his mother ladled generous portions of the stew into wooden bowls. It was delicious, full of roots and vegetables and spices from their small garden and the leftover meat from the quarter of a hog they’d purchased with the profits from the tailoring business. It was exactly what Hinata needed after a long day of practicing, and he could feel the nourishing meal repairing the damage he’d done to his muscles. He ate quickly, making appreciative sounds, and beamed at his mother when she ladled him another bowlful. They were a tight-knit family. His mother worked herself to the bone to provide for Hinata and Natsu. The meager profit his father sent from the mines wasn’t enough to care for two growing children. Natsu was clever, far cleverer than Hinata had ever been, and he was sure she was going to study magic when she was a bit older, when their mother needed less help. 

“How was business today,” Hinata asked.

His mother eyed him over the edge of her bowl of stew, raising an orange eyebrow. “Fine,” she said, and he tried not to feel guilty at her tone. She’d given him the day off, after all, and it wasn’t his fault that there were piles of unmended garments lying about. He wasn’t gifted at sewing whatsoever, the delicate movements too boring. His stitches always ended up looking like a giant had made them with an unsharpened bone needle, and his mother had lost quite a bit of money reimbursing disgruntled customers for his mistakes. Lately she’d been more prone to letting him go off and train, since she knew his mind would never be on sewing. 

He smiled his sunny smile, and thanked her for the dinner. He rinsed out his dish and Natsu’s in the pump out back and put them away, leaving the kitchen neat and tidy the way his mother liked. Then he escaped to his corner of the cottage, his cot laid out in a tangle of quilts and blankets like a bird’s nest. He pulled his katana over his knees and leaned back against the stone wall, staring up at the underside of the thatch. Tanaka and Noya had been talking about bandits. Bandits they wouldn’t do anything about. What was the point of being a fighter if they couldn’t even fight to protect the village people, no matter how far they were from the village center? Besides, he knew some of the farmers to the north. His good friend Hitoka Yachi’s family had a farm where they grew wheat and potatoes, and Hinata couldn’t bear the idea of bandits breaking in and ransacking the place. Someone had to do something. 

Hinata gritted his teeth, his knuckles whitening around the katana. He was good, he knew it. Tanaka said so, Daichi said so, even Noya said so. There was no way four untrained bandits would be a problem for him. He’d practiced the forms again and again, and knew what to do when he was facing multiple enemies. Four wasn’t so many. He’d just have to take one out then get his back protected, and he’d be able to take them. He was certain of it. He could prove himself, then. Tanaka would have to let him join the guild. Maybe Asahi would even take notice, and stop stalling on teaching him the divine magic he so yearned to learn. 

He sat, silent and planning, while his mother and Natsu bustled about the cottage, cleaning and putting the food away into the larder. Natsu threw a ripped tunic at him and told him to mend it instead of being useless, and he did, glad to have something to occupy his hands while he ran through visualizations of four against one fights. It was tough and dangerous. He wished he could ask Tanaka to go with him, but Tanaka would forbid him from going in the first place. It had to be alone, if he really wanted to show the rest of the village what he could do. He steeled his courage while he finished mending the shirt, his movements rote and sure. Once his mother had blown out the candle, he got ready for sleep as he normally did, splashing his face with water and cleaning out his mouth, then settled onto his cot as if nothing were out of the ordinary. He waited in the dark for what felt like half the night, and when he could hear nothing but Natsu’s steady breathing on the cot next to his, he crept out of bed, his bare feet hitting the dirt floor silently. He tugged on his boots and his leather jerkin, then picked up his katana and slipped out into the night. 

The moon was high in the sky, a cool blue light illuminating just enough for Hinata to make out shapes and shadows. The stars shone overhead too, and his sought out his favorite constellation, the Crowned Crow. The bright star of the crow’s eye twinkled at him, and he felt courage steel his resolve. He walked down the deserted path out of the village, his nerves jangling with every sound in the darkness. Wolves generally didn’t come too close to the village, but he’d never really wandered at night before. He drew his katana just to be safe.

Though Karasuno Village was small, it took time to get to the outskirts, where the buildings spread farther apart and cultivated farmland stretched to the horizon. No lights shone in any of the windows. It wasn’t fair that the people who chose to grow food for the village and live in greater solitude should be afforded less security than the people inside the town itself. Tanaka was wrong not to take care of the bandits, no matter how small a threat they were overall. He passed the Yachi farmhouse, one of the furthest away, and studied it carefully as he went. There were no signs of forced entry, the door still in its frame, solid and secure. Hinata breathed out a sigh of relief. He could stop the bandits before they did any harm. The land past Yachi’s turned from fields into sparse wood and low hills, but Hinata still knew the path well. He and the rest of the children in the village played and hunted in the woods from the time they could walk, and he felt only the slightest fear on his own in the dark.

Ten minutes past Yachi’s, he froze. A sound like a snapping twig echoed in the otherwise silent night, too sharp to have been an animal. Or maybe it was a wolf. He’d never been very good at tracking. His breath caught in his throat, and he moved off the side of the road, concealing himself as best he could in the brush. He waited. The sound came again, and again, and was soon accompanied by the low murmur of men’s voices. Fear started to creep up on him, then, and he tried to keep his breathing quiet as his ears rang with his heartbeat.

The circle of torchlight fell onto the path, searing away Hinata’s night vision, but he could clearly see the four men inside the light, all armed with swords and axes and armored in leather similar to Hinata’s. This was it, then. He let out his breath, listening and waiting.

“-squealed like a pig, she did, and pink like one too.”

“Ain’t fair that you didn’t share ‘er with the rest of us, Gorlon. ‘Ave some pity.”

“Gotta be quicker ‘bout it. Take what ya wanna take. Kill what ya wanna kill.”

Hinata didn’t know who they were talking about, but it was enough hearing their rough voices mention killing. They were heading for the farms, and they meant to do harm. They had to be stopped. When they were in range, he tightened his grip on his katana and jumped into the path in front of them.

The group halted, startled by his sudden appearance. Hinata didn’t waste any time. He leapt forward, katana humming through the air, and felt it impact into the closest man’s side. It tore through flesh and came to a sick, grinding halt at his spine. The blade stuck in him. Suddenly panicking, Hinata tugged at the hilt, but the metal caught tight. He had to kick his boot into the man’s chest, wrenching him off the blade. He watched in horror as the half-gutted man slid to the earth, dead and expelling entrails from the wound in his stomach.

Time seemed to slow in between his heartbeats, and he stared. It was nothing like hitting a practice dummy, nothing at all. Humans were more pliable, softer, warmer, and a practice dummy’s eyes didn’t go dim as they died, dully reflecting moonlight in a face frozen in a grimace. He had to swallow against the bile rising up in the back of his throat. He’d just killed a man, as easily as gutting a pig.

He blinked. Time came rushing back. The other three had their weapons drawn, and he just barely had time to parry away the rush of steel from the man to the left of the fallen bandit. Sparks flashed in the night, and Hinata’s arms jarred with the impact. The man wasn’t as strong as Tanaka, though, and Hinata was soon able to slice his sword without resistance, the tip biting across the man’s throat. It was a clean cut, that time, sharp and precise, and the man dropped. There was no time to pause. The third bandit, fighting with an axe, was more skilled and less surprised than his two comrades, and Hinata found his focus entirely caught up. It was difficult to see by the torchlight. He couldn’t see beyond the circle of light it cast, could see nothing at all of the trees at the side of the road. He parried. More sparks shone. The man bore down on him, brute strength and foul breath, and Hinata found himself pushed back, feet slipping over the dirt path as he struggled to stand his ground. Every swing was blocked, every parry countered, and he started to sweat, panic beginning to overtake him. He was outmatched, he knew it, and the man was grinning, unphased. His foot slipped out of the circle of torchlight, his katana blocking the wild swings with more and more desperation, and then he felt a powerful blow to the back of his head.

He went down, falling to his knees, his katana skittering away across the road. His vision blurred, blackness creeping into the edges, but maybe that was just the torchlight? He didn’t know-

A boot rammed into his side, knocking him over onto his back. He couldn’t remember how to get his limbs to move, to fight back, and fell limply against the ground. Two dark figures blurred into his line of sight, silhouetted against the dark night sky. Hinata groaned, and a sword was pressed against his belly.

“Don’ move,” one of the men growled. The sword pricked into his skin, drawing blood but not cutting a fatal wound.

“Ya killed Tarn an’ Smitt,” came the other voice. “Should just kill ya right here, let ya bleed out inna dirt like a stuck baby fawn cryin’ for its mama.”

“Might be too good a fate for ‘im, Gorlon. Look at ‘is pretty eyes. Maybe we can pop ‘em out as souveniers.”

Gorlon laughed, a nasty sound full of sick promises that made Hinata’s skin crawl. He couldn’t move, frozen in sudden terror and stuck by the blade against his stomach. He tried to calm himself, tried to calm the fear, and tame the sudden prickling that he felt under his skin. 

“Rest of ‘im’s pretty too,” said Gorlon. “Ya sure y’ain’t a girl, precious? Ya fight like one. Weak.” He spat, the gob of saliva and mucus landing on Hinata’s cheek. He flinched, and the sword dug into his stomach. His breathing started turning frantic, shallow gasps devolving into whimpers.

“Listen to ‘im, Gorlon, pantin’ like a bitch in ‘eat. Bet your right. Bet ‘e is a girl.”

Hinata could see Gorlon nod, and he squirmed again, lengthening the cut. He could feel blood starting to creep across his stomach, a warm sticky heat.

“Gonna ‘ave to find out,” said Gorlon. “Then we can kill ‘im, after we’ve ‘ad our fun. Be a right shame to let such a pretty face go to waste.”

“Flip ‘im over. See if ‘is ass’s as pretty as ‘is mouth.”

Hinata didn’t have time to struggle. He was picked up bodily, the bandit’s thumb digging into the cut on his stomach, and dragged over to the side of the road. They hauled him to his feet, one man holding each of his arms, and pushed him face-first into a small sapling. The bark scraped at his cheek, and he fought wildly to free his arms. It was no use, though. Even with the years of sword training, the other men’s brute strength overwhelmed him. His arms were dragged around the tree, encircling it, and his wrists were bound together. He tugged and tugged at the leather cord binding them, hands twisting frantically, but the knots held fast even as his wrists chafed and began to bleed.

He felt a press of metal against the back of his neck, and froze. 

“Don’t move, or I’ll just cut your ‘ead off,” growled a voice against his ear, hot breath washing across his skin and filling his nose with its disgusting stench. Hands gripped the collar of his leather jerkin and pulled back, choking him and pulling the fabric taut. He heard a ripping sound, felt a searing pain up his back, and the leather fell away, exposing his back to the cool night air.

“Ain’t even got one scar on ‘im,” the other man said from directly behind. “Look at that. Just like clotted cream. ‘Ow do you think ‘e’d look with bite marks all down it? Maybe some cuts? Got that one already.” A finger prodded into the leaking cut on his back, and Hinata let out a pained grunt, eyes squeezing shut as he felt tears start to prick in his eyes, and another wave of shocks sang through his blood. He groaned, fighting to keep himself together, but what was the point? He’d failed. He had practiced so hard, and he’d failed. Tanaka and the rest of the guard would find his body in the morning, defiled and bloody, and would wonder why they’d ever even bothered to train him. His mother would cry, ashamed of her only son. Natsu would hate his memory.

“Gonna decorate you up pretty, boy,” came the voice in his ear again. A tongue snaked out, circling around his earlobe, then bit it sharply. Hinata shrieked, wrenching away before stopping himself with a jerk, his neck pressed up against the blade again. The man laughed, and another flash of pain whipped down his back, on the other side of his spine from the first. He could feel his fingertips starting to burn under the skin.

“Better get ‘is trousers off before ‘e bleeds all over that nice cloth.” Hinata whimpered, shaking his head as much as he could, but the men only laughed again and sliced the cord holding up his breeches. He felt cold air against his suddenly bare ass, then a rough hand gripped his flesh, squeezing and digging in ragged fingernails.

“Just as round as a girl, told ya so. So small. Bet ‘e’ll be the tightest thing I’ve ever felt. Ever ‘ad anyone fuck yer ass, boy?” asked the voice behind him as hands spread apart his ass cheeks, exposing his vulnerable hole to the night air.

Hinata couldn’t hold back the whimper, or the humiliated tears that were leaking onto his cheeks. He wasn’t even good enough to have been killed in battle, he was going to be used like a whore then gutted. He wished they would just kill him.

“Gonna take that as a no,” said the voice behind him, then Hinata felt warm wetness against his face, licking up the tears as they fell from his eyes. 

“Yeah, cry, pretty, just like that.” Fingers swept over his cheeks, smearing the mixture of saliva and tears and blood, then he felt blunt pressure against his asshole, a horrible dry pain, and then the fingertip slid inside him, eased just enough by his own tears. The ragged fingernail caught at his inside, and he couldn’t help the ragged cry that tore from him. 

The prickling under his skin peaked, a hot liquid fire that burned through him, out of control like it hadn’t been since he was a child. It rushed up his arms, warming him and scalding him. Purifying.

“Stop,” he gasped, suddenly terrified, and not because of what the men were doing to him. 

They didn’t stop. He felt himself torn open as a second finger was shoved into him, and his vision swam with red pain and heat.

“No, no,” he gasped, a black crow fluttering across his mind’s eye, cawing loudly in his ringing ears. “STOP.”

The fingers in him twisted, and Hinata felt his control crack. Light spilled from his skin, blinding and brilliant and furious. He could see it through his eyelids and could feel it leaking from his pores, taking his energy with it. The bandits screamed, stumbling back away from him. He heard them hit the forest floor, then heard a whooshing sound like a bird’s wings, then two more thuds of impact. The yelling stopped, and so did everything else. Hinata moaned, helpless sobs racking through him as the light faded back under his skin. He had nothing left, couldn’t keep his eyes open. He’d nearly killed himself, he could feel it, darkness clawing away at his vision. A sound to his right kept him from passing out completely, and he craned his head, trying to see what it was.

Another figure stood against the starlight, blurry through Hinata’s tears. Tall and imposing, he stood with a bow clutched in one hand and a black bird resting on his shoulder. Hinata blinked, and his vision focused. The figure stalked forward, silent except for the wind ruffling his cloak, and Hinata caught his gaze. Deep blue eyes, cold and emotionless, met his own. He couldn’t fight anymore. He had nothing left in him. He let out a weak groan, then sagged down, his eyes locked in the man’s icy gaze until unconsciousness swallowed him up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter:  
> Mild violence  
> snark

When Hinata regained consciousness, the first thing he noticed was the smell of damp leaves filling his nose and sunlight burning against his eyelids. He’d slept outside, then. The next thing he noticed was the sharp pain in his back and across his stomach and deep within him. Memory flooded back, and he retched, rolling off of the soft blanket and dry heaving until his body shook. Gasping for breath, he gingerly sat up, wiping the tears and sweat off of his face. 

Once his hand had brushed the tears out of his eyes, Hinata blinked and looked around. He was in a little clearing surrounded by saplings. A sturdy tent was set up between two of the trees, and a firepit lay at its entrance. Herbs and vegetables hung in bundles between the trees, and fish were smoking over the embers of the fire. Where the hell was he? His shirt wasn’t his, either. He had on a loose tunic far too big for him, belted in place to keep it from drowning him.

As he got to his knees, a figure dropped out of the trees and landed nimbly in front of him. Hinata gulped as the man straightened up to his full height and glared down at Hinata. He was shrouded in a dark green cloak, the hood pulled up so that only his icy blue eyes and the tip of his chin were visible, but Hinata didn’t need to see his face to sense his anger. He cowered back, wincing as the movement pulled at his injuries, and the figure dropped a bundle onto the blanket. It was his sword, wrapped up in his tattered clothes.

He stared at the bundle, then up at the man.

“Those are yours,” he said, his lilting voice tinged with an unusual accent and a roughness that came from breathing in cold air day in and day out. 

Hinata didn’t say anything in reply, too busy staring. The man made an annoyed sound and stalked into the camp, unstrapping his bow and quiver and leaning them against the side of the tent. He unfastened his cloak, too, tossing it onto the grass. He was thinner than Hinata had first guessed, all wiry, lithe strength and sharp cheekbones. His hair was a glossy black, long enough to curl down around his jaw, and he glared at Hinata with a fierce intensity that made Hinata bristle with indignation. A raven fluttered down from a tree and came to rest on the man’s shoulder, eyeing Hinata with beady eyes. He swallowed, then glared back, first at the bird and then at the man.

“Who the hell are you?” he yelled, his voice shrill and accusatory.

The man was unaffected by his outburst, and just rolled his eyes. “My name is Kageyama. You were crying like a baby, tied to that tree, and I had to save you so you’d shut up.”

Hinata gaped, then bounced to his feet, injuries ignored. He balled up his fists, ready to take this stupid Kageyama, or whatever his dumb name was, down in a fight. “I totally had them! I didn’t need to be rescued!”

“Yeah, did I forget to mention the part where you were tied to a tree?” Kageyama snapped back, then walked over to the fire, prodding the embers with a stick.

“Well- Well, I had it handled,” Hinata said, glaring down at his stupid, useless katana. “I’d have gotten myself untied and then finished them off.”

“Sure,” Kageyama mocked. “If a wolf hadn’t come by first and taken a bite out of your bare, helpless ass.”

Hinata flushed a deep red, embarrassed shame filling him, and he wrapped his arms around himself, subdued. Kageyama didn’t say anything else, but Hinata could hear him moving around, though the sounds of his footsteps were lighter than they should have been. He kept staring at the ground, trying to hold back the humiliated tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

“Here,” Kageyama said, and thrust out a plate of vegetables and smoked fish. Hinata eyed it, then glanced up at Kageyama. Kageyama scowled back at him and moved to take the plate back, but Hinata shot his hands out and grabbed it. He was really hungry.

The fish was pretty good, though he was too hungry to savor it. He stuffed two thirds of it into his mouth in one bite. Kageyama watched him, obviously disgusted, then shook his head and sat on the grass a few feet from Hinata, slowly eating his own portion.

“That was the first time you’d killed someone,” Kageyama said. It wasn’t a question.

Hinata stared at him, mouth bulging with vegetables, then turned his gaze to the embers of the fire, nodding slowly. The memory of the man’s face swam up in his vision, that dead-eyed grimace, and he almost gagged on his bite of vegetables. 

“It’s ok,” Kageyama said. “It gets easier. You won’t freeze up, the next time. You still suck, though. Your katana will get stuck if you try and cut through someone like that without following through. You know they only have one edge.”

Hinata glared. “I know that,” he snapped, eyes flashing. “It’s different when it’s an actual person!”

Kageyama shrugged. “Well, if I hadn’t been there watching you fail, you’d have died.”

“Yeah?” Hinata shot back, food forgotten in his outrage. “You fight with a bow! What were you doing, lurking in the trees until the last possible moment? You could have helped me way sooner!”

“I don’t get involved,” Kageyama said, putting on an air of calm that was so obviously fake that Hinata wanted to run over and tear his stupid black hair out. 

“Well that’s because you’re shitty!”

“Hey! I saved your life, don’t forget it.”

“Well, maybe you should have just let me die!”

“Maybe I should have.”

Hinata threw his mostly empty plate of food at Kageyama’s face, but Kageyama reached out and caught the plate, tossing it to the side, ignoring the vegetables that scattered over the earth. He stared at Hinata with those creepy eyes of his, and Hinata felt his fingers inching towards his sword. 

Before he could grab it, Kageyama was on his feet, a knife drawn from a hidden pocket. “If you want to fight, I’ll fight. You could use the practice. Whoever trained you is obviously incompetent.”

Hinata snarled and grabbed his katana, lowering it towards Kageyama’s face. The raven squalled from where it was perched on one of the low branches, and Hinata got to his feet. He obviously had to prove himself to this asshole. He wasn’t worthless. He knew how to fight. 

“Fine,” he said, and Kageyama darted towards him, faster than Hinata had expected.

Hinata was fast too, though. Faster than anyone else in the village. Freakishly fast, according to Nishinoya. He was able to match Kageyama’s flying blade, parrying the swipes of the knife. It was difficult trying to fight a knife-fighter with a sword, though, and Kageyama kept crowding his space, forcing Hinata to back up and readjust his footing. Still, he had the advantage of reach, and when he moved quickly enough to put proper space between them, he almost caught Kageyama’s face against his blade a few times, only to be stopped at the last moment by the knife. They circled around the clearing, blades flashing in a dance.

Hinata had never fought anyone like Kageyama before, and found himself impressed against his will by the calculated, dangerous grace of his movements, the way he always seemed to be right where he needed to be. Hinata’s world focused into a pattern of attacks and blocks, of slashes and spins and ducks and glides and leaps, and Kageyama matched him. It was amazing. It was a challenge like nothing else. Hinata fought on, quickly sifting through his memories for the correct forms and maneuvers. His chest was heaving with exertion and he could feel himself being pushed back, back, back towards the edge of the clearing, unable to do anything but defend as Kageyama’s strikes got quicker and deadlier. His movements grew less precise, desperate to keep the blade of the knife from meeting skin, and he twisted his shoulders up in a block. Searing pain ripped up the cuts on his back, and he gasped and staggered down to the ground, then lost his balance on a root and fell onto his back. The pain deepened as the cuts reopened, and he could feel blood leaking out of him and seeping into the earth. Kageyama followed him down, straddling his prone form, eyes burning cold. He held his knife to Hinata’s throat. 

“Like I said.” The knife was flipped away in dexterous fingers and concealed in its pouch again. Kageyama stayed on top of him while Hinata tried to blink back tears from the pain.

“I get the point,” he muttered, eyes sliding to the side as shame filled him. Kageyama nodded, smirking at the victory, then slid off of Hinata and got back to his feet.

Hinata bared his teeth in frustration, but struggled back to his feet as well, awed despite himself. No one in Karasuno could fight like that, with that sort of speed and grace. He did have a lot to learn, apparently, and felt foolish for ever believing he was good enough to take on four fully-grown men without ever having been in a real fight. 

“You do have some skill, though,” Kageyama said, and walked back over to his half-finished plate. It had somehow remained undisturbed during their scuffle, and he sat back down to resume eating. “And that light you summoned. What was it? It destroyed my night vision. It was a miracle I was able to shoot those evil creeps.”

Hinata folded his arms across his chest again, glaring at the fire in embarrassment. “Nothing,” he spat. “I just lost control.” His back throbbed.

“When I looked at the corpses, it was like their eyes had been burned out,” Kageyama said.

“I said it’s nothing! I told them to stop and they didn’t, so they deserved it.”

“It’s not arcane light, though. I know the difference. Are you a cleric?”

“No,” Hinata muttered, face heating up. “Nothing like that.”

“A paladin, then.”

“No! I’m nothing, nobody! Just leave me alone.”

Kageyama frowned at him. “Fine. I know you’re Yatagarasu’s, though. The god of vengeance. That was divine magic if I’ve ever seen it, and Milk was the one that brought me to you.”

The raven cawed at the sound of its name and flew down from its perch to rest on Kageyama’s shoulder again. Hinata stared. Had he actually named the pitch-black bird Milk? What sort of idiot was he?

“The paladin in the town said it could kill me if I lost control,” Hinata said, curling down to sit in a little ball in front of the fire. “That’s why I wanted to kill those bandits. Asahi won’t train me on how to actually use it until I’m signed with the order, and I can’t sign up until Tanaka agrees that I’m good enough with a sword.”

“Getting yourself killed is the stupidest way to do that, you moron.”

“Hey! At least I don’t have a raven named Milk.”

Kageyama glared, then reached up to stroke the raven’s feathers. “Whatever. She’s happy with it.”

“Yeah, I bet.” 

“Shut the hell up. If you’re done eating, you can leave. Those cuts aren’t deep, they’ll heal if you keep them clean. You don’t even need stitches. They’ll stop bleeding again in no time.” Kageyama sneered at him. “If you are the best that Yatagarasu has, then that’s pretty fucking pathetic. You really suck.”

“You’re an ass,” Hinata shot back, “even if you did help me out. I never asked for you to! Why do you live out here like a loser in the forest? It’s super creepy!”

“I’m a ranger, dumbass. I bet you never noticed, but there’s hardly ever wolf attacks in your little village. You have me to thank for that.”

“Whatever. Which way is the road?”

Kageyama snorted, then pointed to his left like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’ll walk you. If you get chased by a boar or something, Milk will just caw at me until I go save your sorry ass again.”

“I could totally fight off a boar!”

“No. You couldn’t.”

“Yes I could!”

“Well, just hope you never have to test that statement.”

Hinata stuck his tongue out at Kageyama, then got to his feet, gathering up his sorry bundle of torn cloth and leather He felt a disgusting sort of chill creep up his spine as he held them, but his mother would never forgive him for sneaking out and managing to lose valuable clothing in the process. He tucked the fabric under his arm and resolved not to look at it, not to remember why it had been ruined in the first place.

Kageyama led the way out of the clearing once he’d refastened his cloak and quiver and picked up his bow. Hinata kept eyeing it, now that he had a closer view. It was a deep black wood, burnished to a polish that looked almost like metal, with intricate carvings running up its length. It looked deadly and beautiful.

“Stop staring,” Kageyama said.

“Did you make that yourself?” Hinata asked, skipping a little to keep up with Kageyama’s long strides. 

Kageyama nodded, eyes fixed on the ground in front of him. He seemed to be following some sort of path that Hinata couldn’t discern. He probably would have gotten lost without Kageyama’s help, much though it annoyed him to have to admit. They were in a part of the woods he didn’t recognize, the saplings given way to dense underbrush and bigger, adult trees. Kageyama moved like he knew exactly where he was going despite the confusing tangle of branches and brambles, and Hinata was startled when they passed through a thicket and onto the road. 

“The village is that way,” Kageyama said, pointing. “No one will attack you during the day, or I’ll hear about it.”

He disappeared back into the trees without saying anything else, and Hinata was left blinking at the spot where he’d vanished. 

“What a weirdo,” he said, and headed off down the road. The walk was much calmer in the daylight, the soft sun filtering through the leaves and leaving everything washed in gold. He started humming to himself as he walked, an old war song that he often heard Daichi and Tanaka singing under their breath. There was no one on the road. People from Karasuno rarely traveled north. The next town along the road was three days hard ride away, nestled at the foot of the mountains. It would be snowed in, even in the weak warmth of the oncoming spring. There was no reason for anyone but the most desperate peddlers to travel along the road, unless they were hunting in the forest. 

Hinata appreciated the solitude. No one could see him wincing in pain as the borrowed shirt- it must be Kageyama’s since it smelled of the same deep forests as the man himself- chafed against his wounds, or the way he limped from the injury he was sure was inside him. The man must have ripped the delicate flesh open in his haste, and- Hinata buried the memory, determined not to think on it. Nothing that bad had happened, he told himself. They’d mostly just scared him. It could have been so much worse if they’d been left alive longer than they were. He’d heal and be back to his top form in no time at all. He’d make sure his mother didn’t even notice, though he was sure she would notice the abrasion across his cheek where the bark had bitten into his flesh. He would tell her that he tripped in the darkness, an easy explanation.

He was embarrassed that he’d lost control the way that he had, though. If Asahi found out, if he somehow knew, the Hinata knew he’d be back to the boring meditation instead of fighting like he wanted to. The divine power, or whatever it was, had saved him, sure enough, but he knew it had also almost killed him in the process. He might be blessed by Yatagarasu, as Asahi and Ukai, the old paladin who’d managed the temple before falling ill, had said, but he didn’t see how it was a blessing to almost kill himself from exhaustion every time he lost control of the power he’d been given. There was no point to a tool he couldn’t control, like Ukai had told him time and time again. And there was no point in divine powers at all if he couldn’t even become a paladin. 

The paladins of Yatagarasu were heroes, no matter where they came from. They were protectors, healers, advisors, leaders. There was no greater calling. Hinata would join their ranks. He had to. The mishap with the bandits was just a small setback. He’d get over it and would prove himself, would set himself apart. He’d go seek out Kageyama again, if he had to, and plead with him until he got lessons in how to be as quick with a blade as the black-haired man was. 

He planned and plotted as he walked, barely paying attention to the road, until his feet stopped, refusing to budge. The pale dust in front of him was marred by a dark stain of reddish-brown, splattered in a wide pool across the road and trailing off into the shallow ditch at the side. It was blood, dried and absorbed back into the earth. Blood from the man he’d killed. He felt again the crunch of his blade against the man’s spine, the quick slice as he opened up a throat, and he retched again, struggling to keep down the fish that Kageyama had given him. He fell to his knees, head bowed to the dirt, shuddering and gagging.

“Please,” he whispered, conjuring up an image of Yatagarasu, black wings and three legs and bright, knowing eyes. “Please, I’m sorry. I had to. I have to fight for you.” His back twinged, a sensation like two wings brushing against his skin, and he shivered. His retching stopped, though, and he was able to sit up. The bandits had deserved their fate. They were planning on destroying the lives of one of the families in the village. It hadn’t been wrong to try and stop them. He wiped at his mouth and struggled back to his feet, kicking some loose dirt over the blood stain on the road. He was going to be a paladin. He had to be strong.

It wasn’t like Yatagarasu spoke to him, or anything, but he felt comforted nevertheless. Maybe it had been seeing Milk up close that gave him such a powerful mental image to conjure, but as he walked on, he could close his eyes and visualize a pair of black wings beating the air as they took off in flight. Yatagarasu wasn’t the kindest god in the pantheon, but Hinata had always valued what he stood for more than any of the others. Justice. Light. Divine guidance. It was no wonder that he had the largest set of followers in their country. Yatagarasu’s paladins were a governing force as well, more than just devotees of a religion, and that was another part of the reason Hinata wanted to join their ranks. He wanted to be important. He wanted to help people lead better lives.

The trees thinned and gave way to farmland again as he pondered. The workers were out, tilling soil and planting seeds, and Hinata waved to everyone he passed. Yachi’s father looked surprised to see him, so far north in the early morning, but he just waved and made no attempt to stop Hinata. The road had more people on it, too, farmers pulling their carts to market and merchant’s boys delivering goods to the farmhouses. It was a pleasant, familiar sort of atmosphere, and it made Hinata feel more normal again. He didn’t have to think about what had almost happened to him. His smile was as bright as ever, cheered by the familiar faces.

When he made it back to his house, though, his mother was already out in the yard, a panicked look on her face as she talked to Ennoshita.

“-Wasn’t here when I woke up! No idea what’s happened to him!”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Hinata, but he didn’t come to us either.”

“Are you certain? You know how he idolizes you boys- Shou!”

His mother saw him and ran forward, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him. “Where in the world were you! I thought you’d died, Shou, how could you do this to us?” Tears started to leak from the corners of her eyes, and Hinata felt deep stirrings of guilt. He’d hoped she wouldn’t notice.

“I’m fine, ma,” Hinata said, embarrassed by her outburst. He tried not to let the pain of his cuts show on his face, but Ennoshita was studying him closely, a concerned look on his face. 

“Are you sure you’re fine, Hinata?” Ennoshita asked, glancing at the katana Hinata was still gripping like a life-line. “Where did you go?”

“Just went walking. I couldn’t sleep,” Hinata said, glancing towards his mother. She’d wiped the tears from her face and was glaring at him, and he felt another pang of guilt. 

“Why didn’t you leave a note, Shou?” she asked, folding her arms.

“Sorry, Ma,” Hinata said, scuffing his boot in the dirt.

“Well, I have an entire pile of shirts that need mending, so save your apologies. And what happened to your shirt, Shou? That one’s not yours.”

Hinata flushed, plucking awkwardly at the dark blue tunic that Kageyama had given him. “I tore it. It’s nothing, I can fix it. This was. Um. From a friend.”

Ennoshita stared at him curiously, but shrugged and turned to Mrs. Hinata. “If that’s everything, ma’am, I’ve got other business to attend to.”

Hinata’s mother waved him on, and Ennoshita took his leave with a nod. Hinata’s mother watched him go with beady eyes, then turned her stare back onto Hinata. “Inside,” she said, and he hurried to obey, not daring to face her wrath. Somehow, she was just as terrifying as the bandits in the woods had been.

He settled back inside, sitting on his cot with his legs tucked under him, and began to mend the torn shirts and tunics and breeches that his mother kept handing him. The work was menial and tedious, but it kept his hands busy. His mother ranted at him while he worked, accusing him of selfishness, making him feel guilty for worrying her, for being reckless, for almost getting himself killed. He kept trying to appease her, but his words seemed to fall on deaf ears. He couldn’t disappoint her any more. 

Natsu came to sit by him, mending her own pile of shirts, but she didn’t seem angry like their mother did. She just pressed up against him, happy to have him back safely. It was her own way of showing her worry, and Hinata felt even more awful at having worried her. He tipped his head against hers, comforting her wordlessly, and continued working, hands aching from the small, precise movements of the needle, until the stack was all repaired. He only had his own shirt left to mend, but when his mother wasn’t looking, he shoved it under his pillow so he wouldn’t have to think about it, think about the slice from the knife against his back, about the fingers that had- He shuddered and tried to force that thought away.

It didn’t work. He couldn’t forget the horrible sensation of the man’s fingers, and he was shaking out of control. Natsu put a hand against his forearm, looking up at him, concern plastered across her innocent face. He tried to smile at her, but even that felt wobbly, fake. She was too young. There was no way he could tell her any of the truth of what had happened to him. He’d bear it for her sake, to keep her unaware of the horrors men could cause, and he eventually was able to stop himself from thinking about it and bury it deep at the back of his mind. Natsu kept shooting him worried glances, but the smile he tried again was back to its usual bright brilliance. They sewed in silence until the stack of shirts was mended, and Hinata left the cottage, his mother pursing her lips as he went. 

He went to the practice yard, where Ennoshita was talking with Daichi and Tanaka. They all looked over at him when he approached, and Tanaka strode forward to meet him. 

“So,” Tanaka said, grinning his broad grin. “Off on a nighttime adventure, were you? You should have said something. I was worried your mother was going to behead me with the poker and stir me into her stew for losing track of you. What the hell were you thinking?”

Hinata felt himself flushing, embarrassed at both Tanaka’s concern and his chastisement. He shrugged, his toe scuffing in the dirt.

“Well, since Ennoshita said you showed up again today a bit battered up and wearing a shirt that’s obviously too big for you, it’s clear that something happened.” Tanaka crossed his arms, barring Hinata from walking further into the yard until he answered.

Hinata glanced up at him, face turning a deeper shade of red. “I went to go fight the bandits,” he muttered, and stared at the ground again.

Tanaka swore loudly, and reached out to grab Hinata by the shoulders. Hinata flinched back, and he let go just as quickly. “You idiot! How are you not dead? Do you know what I would have had to explain to your mother if you weren’t luckier than you should be?”

“I killed two of them,” Hinata shot back hotly, feeling childish and foolish and angry for it, “since you said you weren’t going to do anything about them! They could have easily attacked one of the farms.”

“There were four of them, though, Hinata,” Tanaka said, his voice growing serious. “None of us would think about willing taking on four at a time unless we really had to. If you’d said it meant a lot to you, one of us would easily have gone with you, you idiot. Well, maybe Daichi would have gone alone in his prime, but he sets a terrible example for you, and look where he’s ended up. And even he’s had way more experience in battle. What happened? How did you get away?”

Hearing Tanaka spell it out made Hinata feel extra stupid, and he glared up at the captain. “Well, how was I supposed to know that if you won’t ever even let me come on patrols? And I had help. There was some guy living in the woods and he ended up shooting the other two.”

At that, Daichi looked over, frowning. “Black arrows fletched with black feathers?”

Hinata nodded, blinking over at Daichi, sudden comprehension on his face. “Yeah. He makes them himself. I think they come from his raven.”

“You actually saw him?” Daichi demanded.

Hinata nodded again. “Yeah. He’s sort of a jerk, though! I mean, he’s a really great fighter, like gwahh and pow and wham with his knife, and the bow too, but he was really angry and grumpy. But he. Um. Saved me, too. I guess.”

“And he just lives out in the woods by himself? Why not just come live in the village! We could use someone with those sorts of skills,” said Daichi.

“He’s a weirdo, that’s all I know. I need to get better. I need to be able to beat him in a fight.” Hinata’s hands clenched into fists, remembering the ease with which Kageyama had beaten back his best offences. He’d get better. Practice as much as he had to.

“Well, maybe we’ll go try and find him,” Tanaka said, looking over at Daichi.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind thanking him for saving my ass. And Hinata’s too, apparently.”

Hinata flushed. Daichi obviously had only meant it as a figure of speech, but his words made Hinata’s humiliation surge back to the forefront of his mind, and he stalked past the group of fighters and into the temple of Yatagarasu. 

Asahi dropped the bowl he was holding when Hinata slammed the door behind him. The hulking paladin always managed to make himself look small and timid, even though Hinata knew that he had to be one of the best fighters in the village. You didn’t get to be a paladin without knowing how to fight. As annoying as it was that Asahi had decided to stick with healing, Hinata had a lot of respect for the power and control that the paladin always displayed. There was a different sort of power in fighting except when it was absolutely necessary. Of course, Asahi could just be scared to fight. Hinata had never been totally sure, but he felt that Yatagarasu would never bless a paladin that couldn’t defend his ideals with force, when necessary.

“I might need some healing,” Hinata said, once Asahi had recovered from being startled and was smiling at him in welcome.

Asahi’s smile faded as he studied Hinata, deep eyes full of concern. He nodded once and walked over to place his hands on Hinata’s shoulders. “What happened?” he asked.

“I was fighting some bandits. I won, though, obviously.”

“No, that much I guessed,” Asahi said, and tipped Hinata’s head up so he could peer into his eyes. “Your energy, though. That’s been damaged. You don’t need to hide anything from me, Hinata. I’m here to help you.”

“Well, you could have helped me a lot more if you’d have actually taught me how to use my stupid magic!” Hinata shouted, wrenching himself out of Asahi’s hold. “Then maybe I wouldn’t have almost blown myself up with it!” He felt light-headed, and his vision started to blur black around the edges. He hadn’t noticed, before, the emptiness behind his mental wall where his innate light magic swirled. In Yatagarasu’s temple, he was more sensitive to its presence, and all he could feel was the faintest scrap of energy, a drop of water when it was usually vast like a lake. He could feel his knees going weak, and he collapsed to the temple floor, gasping. 

“SUGAWARA,” Asahi shouted, and picked up Hinata like he weighed nothing. He took him over to the foot of the altar, and was soon joined by Sugawara, the best arcane healer in the town. 

“What’s wrong with him, Asahi?” Sugawara asked in his soothing voice, kneeling down in swirl of white and gold robes next to Hinata’s head.

“I’m not sure. There aren’t many cases of people with his sort of inborn divine magic, but as far as I can tell, he used up whatever he has, and I don’t know if he ever realized how much he relied on it for strength.” Asahi gently put Hinata down at the base of the altar, making sure he was comfortable, then stepped back next to Sugawara.

“I think a cleansing and healing, and a restorative ritual,” Sugawara murmured. 

Hinata was only half-conscious of what he was saying, most of his energy caught up with staying awake. He could feel Yatagarasu’s power radiating from the altar, but he couldn’t capture it and take it into himself like he needed to. It was like he was dying of thirst on the shore of a lake, too weak to drag himself to the edge of the water to drink. He shuddered, gasping for breath. He needed the power again. He didn’t know how to function without it.

“Of course,” said Asahi, and disappeared from Hinata’s sight. Sugawara approached and rested a cool hand against his forehead. 

“I’m just going to do a standard healing, Hinata,” he said, smiling down with his sweet smile. “Fix up those scrapes and cuts so that your body can focus on healing your spirit.” He closed his eyes and moved his hands, murmuring the words of an evocation, and white fire crackled along his fingertips. Hinata could see Sugawara wincing with the pain of the flames, but when his fingers made contact with his wounds, Hinata gasped and felt skin knitting back together. The white fire washed over him, healing and cleansing every mark and scrape the bandits had left on him, until there was only a faint white line as a reminder of where their blades had cut into his flesh.

When the spell was complete, Suga smiled down at him again, and Hinata felt a little better for his presence. Then Asahi stepped up, a brazier of burning incense in each hand, and set one at Hinata’s head and one at his feet. Then he unsheathed his sword and pressed the tip into the floor of the temple, letting the sharp metal scratch into the stone as he walked a circle around Hinata’s body. He carved a rune into the stone under each of Hinata’s hands, then stepped back and kneeled before the altar, starting up a prayer-song to Yatagarasu. Suga stood beside him, a hand on his shoulder offering arcane strength, and Hinata could feel Asahi’s divine blessing pouring back into him.

The dried-up lake of his power started to fill again, first drop by drop and then in a trickle and then a steady stream of energy. Hinata gasped and shuddered, muscles convulsing, as he felt his lost abilities returning at the expense of Asahi’s strength. When enough had returned, he became alert enough to register the way that Asahi’s face was turning greyer, and how he was leaning on Sugawara for support.

“Stop,” Hinata said, panicking. “You’re hurting yourself!”

“Calm down, Hinata,” Sugawara said, his voice placid and soothing. “It will be fine. He knows what he’s doing, and I don’t think you realized how much of yourself you lost. Just lay back, this will take a while.”

Despite his grey face, Asahi nodded in agreement, continuing his chanting in a low voice. Hinata obeyed them, laying back in the circle of power and letting energy seep back into him. He had to put up his walls again, to keep the power from leeching out into the rest of his brain, but it felt more normal to have his mental barricades up than to have them down. He lost track of time, content to lie down and let Sugawara and Asahi work their spells and let his own power rejuvenate. Maybe Asahi would finally agree to teach him some actual spells, instead of just basic meditation techniques. What good was his power if he couldn’t do with it what Asahi could?

The only indication of time passing was the shifting of the shadows as the angle of the sunlight streaming through the window. The shadows got longer, stretching towards where Hinata lay at the altar, but Sugawara and Asahi never stopped their spells. They were both exhausted, Hinata could tell by their worn voices, but they refused to let him leave the circle, keeping him there with warning glances. 

He was almost back to normal, the reservoir of power nearly filled, when the first of the screams filtered in through the open window.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter:  
> Violence  
> Minor character death

Asahi and Sugawara both pulled their concentration out of the spell at the first sounds of screams. Hinata sat up in the circle, his head still feeling like it was filled with cotton, but otherwise feeling better than he had all day. Asahi was ashen-faced, and Suga was almost as pale as his hair. They both looked like death, and something bad was happening outside. If they couldn’t fight or defend themselves, it would be Hinata’s fault. He’d taken their strength. He bounded out of the circle, snatched up his katana from where Asahi had left it resting against the altar, and tugged the door into the yard open. Asahi yelled after him in protest, but he ignored the big paladin.

“Stay here!” Hinata shouted at them, and ran out, drawing his sword as he went. The light outside was fading as the sun sank low on the horizon. But he didn’t need much light to see the chaos in the yard. Tanaka, Narita, Ennoshita, Kinoshita, and Daichi, everyone who had been in the yard, were all fighting with... things. Hinata didn’t know what to make of them.They weren’t natural, that was for sure.

They stood upright like humans, but they didn’t have discernible faces, except for a single eye burning a sickly green in the middle of the lump that must have been their heads. Instead of features, they had a deep green coating that looked more like bark or mud than skin, and thick, bulbous vines wrapped each figure tightly, winding around limbs and ending in tendrils that moved like fingers. Some of the vines seemed to be implanted into the center of each figure, and those vines pulsed with lines of dark yellow that shimmered weirdly and could only have been magic. They must be constructs or something like that, but where the hell had they come from? Maybe the Mage’s college had messed up an experiment and they’d gotten loose.

Daichi was closest to him, fighting two of the monsters with his broadsword, the movements fluid and practiced, despite the limp from his injury. He hacked at each limb, severing it from the torso, but even as Hinata watched, the vines started to regrow, twisting and snaking together to form the contorted limbs. No matter how Daichi chopped at them, cutting off the limbs swinging at him did no good. Hinata rushed forward to help him.

“Daichi,” screamed Sugawara from the doorway of the temple. The sound made Hinata’s blood run cold. He’d never heard Sugawara’s voice sound like that, abject terror tearing his smooth tone into jagged shards.

Suga was weak from healing Hinata, and was in no place to fight. As Hinata jumped into the fight to help Daichi, he caught a glimpse of Suga’s too-pale face. Daichi must have seen it too, because he was soon fighting with a renewed vigor, his face grim and determined, his limp ignored.

“Don’t you dare try and help me, Suga,” he shouted, parrying mightily as a viney arm came smashing towards his head. He sliced it off and it started regrowing.

“The hearts,” Suga shrieked. “Take out the magic, Daichi, it’s what’s keeping them up.” Hinata didn’t understand what he meant, and it didn’t seem like Daichi did, either. They both continued fighting as best they could, trying to drop the creature as they chopped away at the rapidly-growing vines. Hinata could hear Suga murmuring something, and then the implanted, sickly-glowing vines in both of the creatures’ chests exploded in a wave of magic, sending them crumpling to the earth as they started to fall into dust.

He understood then, and moved on to help Tanaka where he was battling one of the creatures. Daichi was gone from his side, though, and a quick glance over his shoulder was enough to confirm what he’d suspected. Suga had used the remnants of his strength to kill the monsters attacking Daichi, and Daichi had run over to his fallen form and was picking him up to take him back into the temple. That’s what love did to a person, Hinata mused, before he was drawn full back into the battle, his katana flashing out to sever the vine pulsing with the magic.

“Those yellowish vines!” he told Tanaka. “That’s how you kill them.” Tanaka nodded, and shouted it at Ennoshita and Narita, who then quickly dispatched their own opponents. All of them ran out of the yard and into the street, which was chaos.

Townspeople ran about in a panic, all flooding into the city center. They were being cut down right and left by the creatures. Blood splattered the ground in slick, sticky puddles. Panic made Hinata’s swings wilder and more desperate. He couldn’t see his mother or sister. They’d been all alone at the cottage with no one to protect them.

“The Mage’s college!” Tanaka was shouting, trying to herd the rioting townspeople into a single direction. They’d be safe in the college; Hinata could already see the shimmer of the wards up around the tall tower. The sound of swords clashing against the weird wooden flesh of the monsters clamored in his ears, and he started counting the ones he cut down. Two. Three. Slash. Four. Parry. Five. Thrust. Again and again, keeping the unarmed townspeople safe. Any person with a sword had entered the fray, but Karasuno was a peaceful, sleepy little town, and there weren’t many who could be trusted to use a weapon and not chop off their own hand.

Where had the creatures even come from? As Hinata rounded the curve in the main roadway that separated the temple of Yatagarasu from the Mage’s college, he realized immediately that there was no way it had been an accident of the college. The mages would have been able to stop the invasion way more quickly, and the monsters looked to be swarming towards the tower, where the townspeople were gathering inside the protective wards, rather than away from it. Hinata could see Kei Tsukishima and Kiyoko Shimizu standing sentinel at the gate towers, pouring their magic into their wards. Other mages were lobbing fireballs and shooting lightning bolts and shards of ice and rays of pure energy into the flood of monsters, the magic ripping through the source of their power and crumpling them into the ground. Magic was always way flashier than the basic swing of a sword, but mages tired quickly, just like Suga had. They would be able to mount a strong initial defense, but if Hinata and the rest of the swordsmen didn’t stop the attack, the mages would be overwhelmed as soon as their spells ran out, and the less combat-ready townspeople would be doomed. Hinata couldn’t let that happen. He had to make sure the town was safe, and that his mother and sister was safe. He fought next to Tanaka, then next to Ennoshita, and even saw Noya flitting through the hoard, small daggers stabbing and slashing into the life-force magic of the creatures.

Hinata fought on, his tunic getting soaked in blood and sweat and the ichorous slime that exuded from the creatures whenever their heart-vines were destroyed. It didn’t seem to matter, though. Creatures kept coming and townspeople kept falling to their attacks. Vines and thorns ripped into flesh, tearing and mutilating and leaving bodies all but unrecognizable. Hinata had never been exposed to such violence, not even with the bandits that had attacked him. If he hadn’t been fighting for his life, he was sure that he’d have puked up whatever was in his stomach.

The air was thick with the stench of blood and sweat, a metallic thick tang that had him breathing through his mouth. Even then, he could almost taste it. When bards sang of the smell of fear, Hinata had thought they were writing poetry or exaggerating the way bards always did.But now he thought he understood. The fear coming from the townspeople was wrapped up in the smell, and Hinata felt bile rising in the back of his throats. The screams had faded into a background ringing, at least, adding to the chaos but not distracting him.

Hinata fought in the opposite direction of the flood of townspeople, away from the town center and the safety of the Mage’s college. But he had to get to his house or at least find his mother and sister, wherever they happened to be. Tanaka was fighting beside him against the rush of people as well. His sister owned a little alchemy shop away from the town center, and Hinata hadn’t seen her in the rush of people, either. He wasn’t worried about Saeko Tanaka, though, even if her brother seemed to be. She was the most insane alchemist he’d ever seen, not that he’d seen many others, but she’d probably been having a grand time lobbing her homemade explosives at the creatures and destroying them horribly. But he understood the need to make sure, because he could tell that his swings were getting more and more wild in his desperation to find his mother and sister. He didn’t know where the rest of the fighters guild had gone, or where Noya, Daichi, or Suga had ended up, but the steely determination in Tanaka’s eyes pushed Hinata onward. Tanaka wouldn’t go down without a fight, and neither would Hinata.

Townspeople continued to flood by, running as fast as they could in their panic and fleeing for the safety of the Mage’s college. Still there was no telltale flash of red hair in the crowd. There was no way they’d made it out before he’d left the temple, and that meant that-

“Tanaka,” Hinata cried in desperation. “Have you seen them at all?” He was expecting the shake of Tanaka’s head, but he still felt his hope die when he saw it. They'd never make it far. Natsu had some skill with arcane magic, be she was untrained and still too young to join the mages college. His mother was ordinary. She was strong, like all the village women had to be, but she had no combat training at all. But maybe they'd be fine. Maybe they'd found a place to hide. He would just have to find them. What was left of them. No. They had to be fine. He ran faster, swinging his katana at anything that came close to him, searching.

He was getting close to the cottage when he finally spotted them. He saw Natsu’s shock of red hair in between two buildings. She looked terrified as two vine creatures saw her her just as Hinata had. They started for her, sinuous, inevitable motion. Hinata roared, his heart twisting in panic. He leaped forward into a jump that took him ten feet, soaring through the air like he had wings. He landed in front of her and made quick work of the creatures, slashing through their heart-vines until they spurted the thick ichor that was like their blood. Natsu screamed again, and Hinata grabbed her and held her close.

“Shouyou,” his mother said. She was behind Natsu, facing away from both of them. She sounded eerily calm. “Take Natsu out of here and run.” He heard a clattering sound, then caught sight of his mother’s shadow reflected on the wall of the building. There was another one of the creatures in front of her, closing in fast. She had something in her hand, long and thin like a sword.

Hinata froze, paralyzed between wanting to help his mother and needing to protect his sister.

“Run!” his mother shouted again. Hinata caught her eye for one moment, a flash of gold in the dim light, and he grabbed Natsu’s wrist. His mother’s face was a study in grim determination. The regret and loss in her eyes made Hinata’s heart ache. She knew she had no chance. Hinata knew it, too. But he could save Natsu. He would, for his mother. There wasn’t time to be sad or upset. He’d experienced more violence in the past two days than he had in his entire life, Understanding and pain made him drag Natsu out of the alley. He kept her in front of him so she wouldn’t have to see, walking as fast as he could. There was a sharp, pained cry from behind. He shoved Natsu down into the shadows at the end of the alley, then whirled, darting back down to give what aid he could. It was too late, though. He could already see the vine protruding from his mother’s back, slick with blood and bits of bone. His katana was already out, flicking towards the monster, and he severed the heart-vine. His mother’s body slumped to the alley cobbles, blood spilling out in a flood around her. It was only a moment, a breath. There, and then gone, like it didn’t matter.

Rage built up in Hinata then, the itching under his skin. He tried to hold it back, tried to focus enough to grab the fraying, sparking edges of power that soared up in him. He couldn’t lose control again, not when he hadn’t even fully healed. He had to get Natsu to safety. But first and foremost, Yatagarasu was the god of vengeance, and he demanded retribution. He stepped over his mother’s body, feeling energy crackling through him. His sword flicked out and severed the heart-vine of the monster behind the one that had killed his mother. It fell too, its oozing ichor mixing with his mother’s blood, making the cobbles slick and treacherous. Another creature was behind. Hinata slew that one. And another. Another flick and it was down. They kept coming, drawn to the flight like flies to honey, and Hinata was relentless. He would kill all of them. He would make them pay. The bodies of the constructs started to pile up, a wall in front of Hinata, blocking his mother’s body from the monster’s view. He didn’t know how many he’d destroyed, lost in the rhythm of the fight and in the concentration required to keep his innate power from flooding out.

Then Natsu screamed. The sound pulsed into his ears, and he killed the last monster he was facing before whirling towards his sister.

Three creatures were bearing down on her, and there wasn’t time. He jumped over his mother’s body, desperate to reach her, to save her and protect. He couldn’t let her die too. He’d do whatever he had to, sacrifice himself, sacrifice everything. As he reached the highest arc of his jump, he felt his control slip. The energy under his skin fizzed, like sparks or pinpricks, and then it flooded out of him for the second time in two days. The alley shone bright, brilliant light scorching away every shadow. The darkness around the creatures, the aura of wrongness and dark magic that surrounded their constructed bodies, was blasted away, ripping the creatures from their source of magic. The ones threatening Natsu crumbled before he landed on the ground in front of her at the mouth of the alley. The creatures nearby on the street had crumpled too. Hinata caught a glimpse of their falling forms as he himself staggered, his katana sticking into the pavement as he went to a knee, finished. He just hoped he’d cleared enough of them for Natsu to get to safety. He could hear her sobbing behind him as his vision started to fuzz. He blinked, trying to struggle to his feet. It had been too much. He should have had better control. He could hear the shuffling sound of the creatures, distant but coming closer. He hadn’t gotten them, then.

“Run, Natsu,” he said.

He trembled helplessly on the ground, eyes leaking tears of impotent rage as he tried to struggle back to his feet. Even with his katana braced against the ground, he wasn’t strong enough. They were going to die in the alley with their mother, just another set of casualties. It wasn’t right. In his desperation, he clawed at the empty pool of his power, searching for one last trickle of energy, but it was almost as dried up as before. He couldn’t do a damn thing.

The monsters were closing in. He let his head hang. Natsu’s screams would be the last thing he heard, and the sound of an arrow whistling into bark-like flesh. Hinata’s eyes opened, and he lifted his head. The approaching creatures were all dead, black arrows sticking out of the exact center of each heart vine.

“Get up,” came a sharp command from above him. It was Kageyama’s voice, clipped and precise with his weird accent. He dropped to the ground in front of Hinata, bow out. “Hurry. They’re not going to stop until sunset. Is your sister hurt?”

“Wha-” Hinata slurred, blinking up at Kageyama where he stood blocking the sun, a silhouette in the fading light. His cloak billowed around him, making him look strong and imposing. Hinata gritted his teeth. He couldn’t let Kageyama look down on him like that, like he thought Hinata was worthless and useless for being unable to protect his own sister. He got a firmer grip in his sword and used it to haul himself to his feet. He only wobbled a little, regaining his footing as his head swam with exhaustion. He groaned and straightened up to his full height, glaring up at Kageyama.

“Come on,” Kageyama snapped. “There’s too many to fight. We have to move, Hinata. Now.”

Kageyama grabbed Natsu and slung her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing. He carried his bow in his other hand, but Hinata could tell that he wouldn’t be able to draw and nock arrows to fight. Natsu was his responsibility. That knowledge spurred him on, but as he staggered forwards into an awkward run after Kageyama, he knew he’d never be able to carry her. They’d just have to run, and fast.

The monsters were thinner as they reached the edge of the crowd. The civilians that had fought had thinned their ranks. Still, a pair of the beasts ran up to Hinata and Kageyama, empty eye holes focused on Natsu. Natsu shrieked, and Hinata forced his exhaustion away, feeling for the last drops of energy in the empty lake that usually held it. He swayed, but managed to get his katana up between Natsu and the monsters, and then Kageyama was dropping her to draw and nock an arrow, faster than Hinata could believe. He’d never seen anyone move with that sort of grace, fluid and easy. The monsters were dead with arrows sticking out of them, and Hinata stared in shock at Kageyama. He didn’t have time to stare for long, though, because Kageyama had already scooped Natsu back up and started running again.

“Come on, keep up,” he snarled, not sparing a glance back at Hinata. “You can’t get left behind.”

Hinata bared his teeth at Kageyama’s condescending tone, but he used the energy that he’d scraped together to run after them, sword dragging uselessly on the dirt beside him. They rushed with the rest of the townspeople into the Mages’ college, the wards flickering weirdly when Kageyama tried to enter. He glanced up at Shimizu, who was standing atop the gatepost, and she made a motion with her fingers when she saw that Kageyama was carrying Natsu. The wards rippled the opposite direction, and the trio ran inside the safety of the warded gates.

The courtyard of the Mage’s college was jammed with people all rushing about in a frantic haze. Still, it seemed like only a third of the town was inside. He spotted pieces of families here and there, a mother weeping with only one child, a dead-eyed man standing alone, siblings clinging to each other and sobbing. The smell of blood and pain hung around the bedraggled villagers. The mages worked tirelessly, the battle mages sending their missiles of fire and ice over the walls, defensive specialists like Shimizu and Tsukishima holding up the warded gate, and white mages like Suga healing the wounded people as best they could.

Hinata was too exhausted to properly process what was happening, though. He was aware of Natsu being taken from Kageyama’s arms by a mage in yellow robes, and then he was sinking to his knees, his vision going blurry for the second time in as many days. He’d used himself up, but maybe if he’d used the very last bits of strength in that blast, he could have saved his mother. Someone was shouting at him, smacking his face. He tried to look up, but it was hard to lift his head. Strong fingers grabbed his chin, forcing his face up. He saw Daichi standing above him with Asahi, both looking concerned. Kageyama was standing next to them, too, but he was scowling. Hinata was pretty sure that was his default expression.

“...seen Tanaka?” Daichi was saying.

Hinata took a moment to realize that Daichi was talking to him. He shook his head, or tried to, but the hand on his jaw didn’t let him move. “Nnnnn-” he said instead. Daichi frowned.

“I thought you healed him. Does he have an internal wound? Did you see him get hit?” Daich first asked Asahi, then turned to Kageyama. Both shook their heads.

“We weren’t able to fully heal him,” Asahi said, concern creasing his face and making him look older. “The attack started before the ritual was completed.”

“You mean his divine magic, right?” asked Kageyama. “It was drained. He used it again, I saw a flash of light just like the one in the forest. That’s how I was able to find him and help.”

Asahi’s eyes widened a little, and he reached down with a big hand to place his thumb and forefinger against Hinata’s jaw and temple. He closed his eyes, the lines under them deepening for a moment, then opened them wide, staring down at Hinata.

“He should be dead, really,” Asahi murmured. “There’s nothing left. I don’t even know if we’ll be able to heal him again, not so soon. Not when the ritual was already interrupted.”

“Take him to Suga,” Daichi commanded. “I know he can’t do much, as weak as he is, but he can at least keep him from dying.”

Suga was safe too, then. That was good. Hinata tried to smile, but his facial muscles weren’t working. He needed sleep, or something. It was getting to hard to fight off the exhaustion pressing against his eyes. It was beyond normal tiredness. It was the same empty feeling he’d had in Yatagarasu’s temple, but worse, like he’d ripped a fresh scab off of a wound that hadn’t healed, making the bleeding start up again and the scarring worse. He needed to fight, though, to help the mages and the warriors that were still standing, but he couldn’t even manage to sit up.

Natsu was shuffled off into the crowd of children, and she would be fine. Daichi and Asahi left too, interrogating other townspeople as they came through the wards. Only Kageyama was left, and he bent to pick Hinata up. Hinata tried to squirm. It was uncomfortable, being treated like he weighed no more than a sack of flour, but his muscles were too exhausted, his mind and energy too spent. Kageyama hooked an arm under his legs and carried him, princess style, into the foyer of the Mage’s college. It had been set up as a temporary sickbay. Mages in white robes passed from person to person, but their numbers seemed meager in comparison to the number of injured townspeople. Suga was easy enough to spot, his silver hair shining brightly even in the dull, dusty light. Once he spotted Hinata, he hurried over to them.

“Is he bleeding?” Suga asked Kageyama. Hinata felt a little offended at being treated like he wasn’t there, like he couldn’t comprehend his own injuries, but then, he couldn’t open his mouth to form words, either.

Kageyama shook his head, setting Hinata down on the cobbled floor. He was surprisingly gentle, making sure Hinata didn’t hit too hard and jostle his bones. He straightened and shook his head. “His divine magic,” Kageyama said.

Suga frowned. “He wasn’t even healed all the way.”

“They killed his mother.”

The words sent a pang through Hinata. Natsu was an orphan. He was an orphan. For all his training, all the hours of sweat and pain and effort, he was still useless. He hadn’t been able to protect them. Tanaka had been right all along. He closed his eyes, letting his pain wash over him, and curled in on himself, pulling his legs to his chest. The effort felt like pulling concrete blocks, and he fell to his side, curled in a helpless ball of misery.

Suga kneeled beside him. “It’ll be okay, Shouyou,” he said, his voice soothing as it always was. “We’ll figure out a way to help you.” But there wasn’t anything Suga could do for him at the moment, Hinata knew. Divine healing was different than the arcane healing Suga had trained for, and he’d already given too much energy in the incomplete ritual and the battle magic he’d used earlier.

“It’s how I found him.” Kageyama’s voice again, distant and unfamiliar. “The same magic as before. If he hadn’t used it, I think he’d be dead.”

“He should be dead anyway,” Suga snapped, his voice suddenly more strained than Hinata had ever heard before. “You must not understand how rare he is. This isn’t normal. He isn’t normal, and he has to be protected.”

A wave of guilt washed over Hinata, and he whimpered, helpless on the cobbled floor. Hearing Suga say it was painful. It was the truth, but the truth was too much to bear. He wasn’t normal. Suga wasn’t trying to be hurtful, surely, but his words stung. All his life, Hinata had been protected, and it still hadn’t done any good. His mother was dead because he hadn’t known enough to save her. Natsu had no parents, no family but a useless older brother who couldn’t even protect her in a fight. Tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes, and he ducked his face down, curling into a smaller ball.

“Oh, Shouyou,” Suga murmured immediately, rubbing his palm over Hinata’s back. “That’s not what I meant. You just needed more healing. Why did you have to go and- But it’s fine. You’ll be fine, we’ll sort you out. Why are you still here?”

That last bit was snapped at Kageyama, who took a step back at the venom in Suga’s tone before replying. “I just- I’ve never seen that kind of power before. I wanted to make sure he’d recover. But fine. I’m going. They could use my help up on the parapet.”

Kageyama turned his heel and fled, his dark grey cape whipping behind him. Suga scowled after his retreating form. “Of course you help now, when it doesn’t matter,” he hissed.

Hinata was confused by Suga’s pained tone. It was so different from his normal, encouraging, sweet voice that it didn’t sound like him at all. Hinata wouldn’t have realized it was Suga speaking, but he could see his mouth moving through half-lidded eyes. Suga watched Kageyama go until the door slammed behind him, then he turned back to Hinata, replacing the wounded look on his face with his normal, cheery, helpful one. Hinata wanted to ask how he knew Kageyama, about what had caused such bitterness, but he still couldn’t muster the energy to form words. Maybe he’d forgotten how to speak altogether.

He drifted in and out of consciousness, unaware of how much time was passing. He was too tired and drained to care about anything. He vaguely wondered where Natsu was, if she was safe, and felt a dull ache in his soul from the loss of his mother. For the most part, though, he lay there, still and numb. The ceiling of the Mage’s college was high, arched in vaulting beams and patterned with warding symbols and runes, charts of the stars, and all all sorts of paintings that Hinata didn’t understand. It had fascinated him every time he’d visited before, and it kept his eyes open now. He just stared at them while Suga checked on him periodically. He was busy helping the wounded. The healers were stretched thin, and Suga was beyond exhausted, too, the planes of his pretty face creased with shadows and lines. He was still forcing himself to continue and save as many people as he could. Hinata felt a dull pang of guilt. He was the one that had made Suga like that, and it hadn’t even done any good. Hinata was useless. Other people were dying because Suga couldn’t help them, because Hinata had taken all he had.

He lay on his back, staring, and felt tears start to prick at his eyes. They leaked out, falling across his temples and into his hair, leaving damp trails. He couldn’t even lift a hand to brush them away. Was the battle finished? Had they won? No one was telling him anything. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. Eventually Suga came by to check on him again, and stumbled as he knelt by Hinata.

“Sorry,” Suga said, and sat heavily on the ground. “I’m out. Don’t pass out on me, Hinata. We’ll get Asahi in here, he’ll know what to do.”

Asahi had been worn out, too, though. And he’d been fighting, now that Hinata thought on it. He’d been holding his giant axe, the one that usually was stashed casually in the corner of the temple. Hinata had never seen Asahi actually use it, but the big paladin had been holding it as naturally as Hinata held his katana. Hinata wished he’d been there to watch him fight. It was bound to be impressive. Paladins always were when they fought. At least, Hinata assumed that they were. He’d never really seen a paladin of Yatagarasu in action, but he’d imagined it enough times. He would be able to fight like that some day. If he recovered. The exhaustion was deeper than his bones, sucking at his soul instead. He had nothing left. Hopefully Natsu was safe.

The light in the Mage’s college dimmed, the shadows lengthening as the spread across the floor. The sun was setting. It was significant, but Hinata couldn’t remember why. Something Kageyama had said? A last flash, and the light was gone. A silence filled the room, and Hinata hadn’t realized how loud the battle had been, even muffled by the thick stone walls. The only sounds left were the whimpering moans of the injured and the dying.

The doors to the Mage’s college burst open. Daichi, Kageyama, Asahi, and some other fighters flooded inside, along with Tsukishima and Shimizu and the other mages that had been guarding the wall and the gates.

“ _Suga_ ,” cried Daichi immediately, limping to Suga’s side where he sat by Hinata, looking half-dead. He brightened up at the sight of Daichi, though, relief evident on his face.

“Thank the gods,” he muttered, and Daichi helped him to his feet. He swayed a bit, leaning heavily against Daichi’s arm for support. “What happened?”

“Sunset,” Daichi said, and Suga nodded.

“With how many there were, I was afraid even the sun setting wouldn’t stop them. I’ve never seen magic used like that before. Who was behind it?”

No one seemed to know, though Kageyama shifted on his feet, glancing back to the gate. No one noticed his restlessness, it seemed, except for Hinata. Hinata couldn’t stop watching him.

“Whoever it was,” Tsukishima said, his voice grating and arrogant. Hinata really didn’t like him, the way he pranced around thinking he was too good to associate with the melee fighters, simply because he was gifted and rich. “They’re stronger than anyone we’ve ever seen. There’s nothing to say that the creatures won’t attack again tomorrow.”

“They won’t,” said Kageyama from where he was lying in the shadows.

“And how, exactly, do you know that?” Suga asked, his voice going back to that same bitter tone that he’d used before. Daichi seemed to notice, because he tightened his hold on Suga’s waist, fingers stroking him soothingly. Suga glanced up at him, then sighed, his face molding back into its usual placid expression.

“I just know,” Kageyama muttered. He examined his bow, running his fingers over the length of the wood.

Daichi stared at him, then shrugged. “Hopefully you’re right. We can’t afford something like this again. We still don’t know where-”

Tanaka burst into the door, carrying Saeko and followed by a bleeding Nishinoya.

“Oh,” said Daichi, “there you are.”

A healer hurried over to the group, a short man that Hinata had only seen before, never spoken to. He looked almost as haggard as Suga, but he still muttered a spell, laying his hands on Saeko. She stirred, face creasing, and her breathing evened out. “That’s about all I can do for her,” the healer said, “she needs rest, but she’ll be fine.” He glanced at Noya. “That’s just a scrape. Bandage it up and you’ll be fine too.”

Nishinoya didn’t seem bothered, and just grinned. “I found Tanaka and Saeko by their house. We had to fight them off just the three of us, and then just the two of them when Saeko went down!” Only Nishinoya would ever look so thrilled at the prospect of single-handedly facing an army of magical constructs, but Tanaka grinned at him too once he’d laid Saeko on the floor next to Hinata.

“Yeah, it’s too bad the rest of you weren’t there to see it. We were pretty cool. Saeko was even cooler, though. We almost couldn’t get to her, there were so many dead ones. But we saved the day in the end.” He struck a heroic pose, waggling his eyebrows at Shimizu. She just stared back at him, unblinking, until he turned red and tried to hide behind Noya.

Asahi had bent down to examine the gash on Noya’s leg. “Won’t you sit down, Noya,” he asked, his voice gentle but tinged with exasperation. “You could be crippled if you don’t take your weight off of it.”

Hinata saw Daichi’s eyes flicker to Kageyama, who met his gaze unflinchingly. Daichi eventually looked away, tightening his hold on Suga again.

Noya was grumbling as Asahi bandaged him up, but he didn’t look terribly upset about having his leg nearly chopped off. He and Tanaka swapped their tale of how they’d managed to fight off the creatures, Tanaka distracting them while Noya would jump on them from behind and slash their heartvines.

“I’ve never fought anything like them, though!” Noya said. “I’ll be way better at it, next time.”

“Let’s just hope there isn’t a next time,” Daichi said. “Where’s Takeda?”

“He took the younger students and the children to the cellar. It’s strongly warded,” Shimizu said.

“Nnn-” said Hinata, and everyone’s eyes went to him.

“What’s wrong with him, Suga?” whispered Daichi, though it still was loud enough for Hinata to hear.

“Exhaustion, from what I can tell,” Suga said. “He let his power out again, too soon after he’d used it all up before, and not enough rest in between. He’s not been trained for that sort of exertion. It could have killed him.” He raised a silver eyebrow at Asahi, who had moved away from Noya to kneel by Hinata again. Asahi glanced up, and cowered under Suga’s glare.

“It’s not my fault,” Asahi said. “You know why we had to wait. There’s not much I can do for you right now, Hinata, but I can get you sitting up, hopefully. Yatagarasu gave me some strength to fight, but my power is still almost gone.” Asahi laid his hands on Hinata’s head, pressing his fingers against Hinata’s jaw and temple again, and began the reverent words of a prayer. It wasn’t as intense as the sensation had been in Yatagarasu’s temple, but Hinata could still feel a little bit of Asahi’s energy flowing into the gaping emptiness where his own energy usually was. It wasn’t enough, though, it wasn’t going to be near enough. Before Hinata felt like he’d recovered even a hundredth of what he lost, Asahi’s hand slipped, and he had to brace himself on the floor to stop himself from falling on top of Hinata. Tanaka helped Asahi to his feet, supporting him like Daichi was supporting Suga, and Noya patted the top of Asahi’s boot from where he was sitting.

“Sorry,” Asahi said, but Hinata just nodded. He did feel better, a little. He tried to sit up, and wobbled, crashing back and bouncing his head off of the stone. Kageyama darted out from his shadowy corner, moving in that weirdly quick way he had, and was there kneeling next to him.

“Don’t crack your skull, idiot,” he hissed, and helped Hinata sit up. Hinata glared up at him, but was feeling too weak to scramble away from the supporting arms.

“Natsu,” he asked, voice raspy.

“She’s safe,” Daichi said. “She’s with the other children.”

Hinata nodded. That was good, at least. He felt miserable. He didn’t know what she’d do without their mother. The loss was still too new, too raw to process. He didn’t think about it, instead leaning more heavily against Kageyama as he tried to pull himself up farther.

“We have a spot for her here,” Shimizu said, in her calm voice. “It’s a little earlier than we’d normally take a child, but things aren’t going to be normal again for a long time.”

“Yes, she, unlike the rest of your family, has the mental strength to succeed in the arcanum,” Tsukishima said, his voice silky in his insults. Yamaguchi thwacked him on the arm. Hinata hadn’t noticed him before. He was always standing in Tsukishima’s shadow.

Hinata didn’t have any spare energy to glare at Tsukishima, so he just nodded at Shimizu, grateful. Natsu’s arcane talent was obvious, and he wouldn’t have to worry about her getting fed if the mages had agreed to take her in. He’d just have to worry about himself, instead.

“What’s wrong with me?” he asked Asahi. “What’s really wrong?”

Asahi just shook his head. “I… I don’t really know, Hinata. You’re not a full paladin, so you shouldn’t have the kind of power that you do. There aren’t any documented cases like yours outside of myths. The ritual earlier today would have been enough to restore ten paladins to full strength, with the amount of power Suga and I gave it.”

“We’ll sort you you, Shouyou,” Suga said, smiling down at him. “Just because we don’t know, doesn’t mean we won’t try and help you.”

Hinata just nodded. He had to hope, and to trust. Yatagarasu wouldn’t have given him these freak powers if they were just meant to kill him. He had to believe that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to [thecaitsmeow](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Thecaitsmeow) for betaing
> 
> And thank you for reading :D

**Author's Note:**

> I just really wanted to write a long, filthy, involved fantasy AU. I like Haikyuu Quest, and this fic definitely has been partly inspired by it, but there's a lot of other stuff built in to the world and the characters that are from my own head. Hinata's in for a pretty bad time in this fic. I'm sorry my sunshine child, I promise there will be good times too D: pretty much everyone is in for a bad time, though. Good fantasy is always dark and depraved, and this will be no exception. 
> 
> Thank you to [thecaitsmeow](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Thecaitsmeow) for beta-reading and also helping me plot out this wretched filth. I can't take all the credit (or the blame)


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